


Triple Threat

by redlionboys



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drama AU, Gay Panic, High School AU, Keith Plays the Piano, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, M/M, and a dork, meddling Pidge, non-binary Pidge, shiro is a Dad, theatre trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9580988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlionboys/pseuds/redlionboys
Summary: Lance knew a little bit about theatre.Well, more like everything about theatre. He could recite monologues at any moment, pull the perfect song lyrics at the right time out of his ass, and of course, managed to be the most melodramatic student at Garrison High.Keith, the shy kid who played softball the first three years of his high school career, gets thrown into the drama class because his chosen elective was full. Keith never went near the performing arts, but the drama teacher, Allura, and of course, Lance, soon learn that he has a natural talent for singing.Which leads to a rivalry; both boys were to audition as the same character, and despite Keith being an ametuer, Lance is scared. He’s also scared about these new feelings he experiences when he’s around Keith, ones that aren’t hatred as they should have been.And no matter how good of an actor he is, Lance just can’t pretend he doesn’t feel things for Keith. And Keith, despite it all, just can’t seem to stay away.





	1. 1-No Day But Today

Lance was impatient. So incredibly impatient that he hadn’t stopped talking for ten straight minutes to his best friend, Hunk, who was rolling his eyes as the boy rapidly complained. Lance, decked out in skinny jeans and a button up with sleeves rolled up, was leaning against the cracked wall of Room 4B, tapping his fingers and glancing every second or so to the door on the other side of the classroom. 

“Improv in a minute, lovelies!” Allura’s calm accented voice flowed out of her office and into the room. The students sitting on the floor, about 15 in total, starting scrambling into groups, talking amongst themselves. Lance stopped talking and pushed himself off the wall. 

“You ready, Hunk?” He said, grinning slyly. 

The boy tightened the headband around his forehead. “I am, but I don’t think all these newbies are.”

“Boys,” Allura said, calmly walking between them to get to her desk. She shot them a stern look. “Don’t go too overboard, please. It’s only the first day.”

“Well, of course.” Lance snapped his fingers. “Which is why we have to prove ourselves today.”

Allura sighed. “I think that you’ve proven yourself enough, Lance.”

Lance scoffed, pulling out a chair and sitting behind the group of kids. “No such thing, I’m the superior drama kid.” He smirked to himself. He thought back to his freshman year, the shy, self conscious, quiet kid whose life turned around when he auditioned for Chip Tolentino in a strange rush of courage. Finding out he could sing, act, and dance was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It also made him quite well known at the school, something he was very proud of. 

“Okay,” Allura announced, clapping her hands. “We’re starting with Situational Therapy. For you newcomers, two people will be called up and given a situation, and they just have to act it out. We’re starting with something easy to warm up. Everybody got it?” The kids nodded. Lance huffed and nudged Hunk. 

“We are going to dominate,” he muttered, grinning. 

“Okay, so we’ll bring one of our more experienced students up first…” Allura looked around and reluctantly nodded to Lance. “Lance, could you go first to demonstrate?”

Lance puffed out his chest and stood up overdramatically. “Of course, princess.”

The kids giggled amongst themselves, and Lance threw them a crooked smile as he strutted up to the two chairs placed in the front of the room. He made eye contact with Hunk, who was staring expectantly at Allura. The teacher had a hand on her chin and was looking around the room. She lifted a finger and started to talk before the door burst open. 

“Sorry, Ms. Altea.” It was Shiro, the dorky English teacher that everyone had a crush on. He was panting slightly, his grey cardigan wrapped hand resting on a kid’s shoulder. The student in question’s face was beet red, and he looked like he was ready to kill someone. Lance’s eyes widened, the kid was gorgeous. 

Mr. Party-Crasher had dark, choppily cut hair, and pretty, scowling eyes. His skin was pale and smooth, but pink in frustration. His clothes were uncoordinated, rumpled, and big on him. He shrugged Shiro’s hand off his shoulder and glared at the class. 

“This is Keith,” Shiro introduced, gesturing to the kid. Keith scowled again and Lance leaned forward. Scowling was a surprisingly good look on this Keith kid, he thought. 

“Hello, Keith,” Allura said, standing up and walking around to meet the two by the doors. She held out her hand. “I’m Allura. Only this goof here calls me Ms. Altea.”

Keith stared at her hand for a few seconds before shaking it carefully. “Hi.”

“His top three electives were full,” Shiro explained. “Principal Alfor told me to bring him here, since there’s no other open classes. Garrison got a lot of new kids this year, I guess.”

Allura laughed softly. “Of course. Keith, welcome to drama class. This is technically an advanced class, but it doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’ll do great with us. Thank you, Mr. Shirogane.” She gave Shiro a smile and placed a hand on Keith’s back, guiding him towards the group. Shiro awkwardly waved goodbye, and hurried out the door with a blush staining his cheeks.

“Students,” she began, “this is Keith. He’ll be joining out class.” She turned to the boy. “Keith, have you ever participated in theatre arts before?”

Keith shook his head. “Uh, no. I don’t really… well, I don’t-”

“It’s fine, we’re just doing an improv game right now.” She quickly explained the idea of the activity and then said something that made Lance almost shit himself. “You’ll be joining Mr. McClain up there. Let’s see what you got.”

“What?” Lance sputtered, shooting up from his seat. “Don’t make me go with an ametuer, Allura! What about Hunk? Aren’t I supposed to be demonstrating?”

“You can demonstrate just as well with Keith here.” Allura patted his shoulder. “Won’t that be nice?”

“Actually, I-” Keith began but Lance interrupted. 

“Allura, come on,” he pleaded. Keith looked slightly offended, but mostly annoyed. Lance’s stomach clenched. Not now, he thought, I’m mad at the hot guy, remember? 

Allura wasn’t budging. “Nope, go ahead. This is your first grade, both of you. I’ll give you the scenario in a minute.” She pushed Keith gently towards Lance, but it was enough to make him trip and fall into the other boy’s arms. Keith felt surprisingly warm, Lance thought as he hauled him up. 

“You okay?” Lance asked softly. 

“Fuck off,” Keith growled, yanking his arm out of Lance’s grip, stomping away to the chair. 

“Woah,” Lance muttered to himself. “Okay then.”

“Ready, boys?” Allura called, sitting down in her chair. Both students glowered at her. She just laughed. “You are. Let me think… yes! You’re on a blind date that your friends set you up on. You aren’t sure if this is going to work out. Let’s see what you two can do. And remember,” Allura tapped her desk, “this is for a grade. Everyone else: watch them.”

Lance inhaled deeply and turned his chair to face Keith, who was looking down with a stoic expression on his face. Great, Lance thought, my first grade a failure because some stupid kid who isn’t even invested-

“So Michelle,” Keith drawled interrupting his thoughts. Lance looked up, surprised, only to find a completely different person in front of him. Lax, suave, and handsome, Keith’s entire posture had changed, now leaning forward on his elbows, legs crossed, and eyebrows lifted flirtatiously. 

“May I just say,” Keith continued, “Pete was right. But a girl like you has to come with some kind of baggage, right?” That gorgeous eyebrow quirked up. It took Lance ten seconds to realize he was supposed to say something. Oh, and he was supposed to be a girl. He giggled, catching Keith off guard as he batted his eyelashes and fell into the role, twirling the ends of his short brown hair. 

“Nope,” Lance said, voice raised an octave and unnaturally smooth, “just had bad luck in the dating department, I guess.”

Keith seemed to snap out of his surprise and immediately fell back into character. “That should be a shame, but hey,” he paused, winking, “that’s good news for me.”

Lance giggled again, covering his mouth. “You’re too kind, Robert.” 

Keith grinned. “No such thing. You’re simply marvelous.”

“Oh Robert,” Lance said, still in the voice, “would you dance with me?”

Something that looked like fear flashed across Keith’s face before it smoothed out and he stood, holding his hand out to Lance. “It would be my honor.”

Some kid pulled out their phone and started playing a slow song as Lance accepted the hand and placed his hands on Keith’s shoulders. The situation was slightly awkward, seeing as Lance was at least 3 inches taller than Keith. Nevertheless, Keith slipped his arms around Lance’s waist like it was natural and the two began to dance, never tearing their gazes away from each other. 

Oh crap, Lance thought, he’s really attractive. And he was. Keith’s eyes were prettier up close, and his hands were warm. The scent coming off of him was unfamiliar, like dirt and watermelon, which somehow smelled good. 

“Robert,” Lance said dramatically, swooning, “We must do this again some night.”

“My lovely Michelle,” Keith murmured, loud enough for the class to hear, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Lance was about to let go and call off the game, seeing as the scene was obviously over, but he was hesitant. Keith’s arms felt really nice and comforting, and Keith was hot when he was acting. And he was really damn good at it too, if Lance had to admit it. So yeah, he was reluctant to let go. 

A kid gave him an out a few seconds later. 

“BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY ROCKIN’ EVERYWHERE…”

The class roared with laughter as a short kid near the front held up their phone and smiled triumphantly. They had spiky dirty blond hair and huge amber eyes that were framed by large glasses. The smugness on their face made Lance break character and pull away from Keith, laughing. He looked up to see the other boy chuckling to himself, too. 

“All right, okay,” Allura said, but she was snickering too. “That’s enough Pidge.”

“Aw,” the kid, Pidge, pouted. “It was getting to the good part.”

“Good job boys,” Allura said, shutting Pidge out. She began clapping, the rest of the class following after her action. “Keith, that was incredible. And Lance, as always, that was a good laugh. What a start to the year!”

Lance grinned and bowed deeply. When he straightened out, he saw Keith blushing and scurrying to sit down in the group of students. Lance watched him as he walked back to his seat, waiting a beat too long to look away. 

“What was that all about, dude?” Hunk asked once Lance sat down.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the heart eyes!” Hunk threw his hands in the air. “You’re a great actor, Lance, but that was some Oscar stuff right there. You two looked like star crossed lovers or something. Is that the correct phrase? Or is it, like, star-”

“Hunk,” Lance cut him off, holding a hand out. “It was nothing. I am merely just a talented, handsome, amazing-”

“Slightly annoying teenage boy?” Keith stood near them, arms crossed over his chest. Lance stuck out his bottom lip, glaring at the other boy.

“Rude,” he said. Keith just gave him a small smile, but then halted. 

“Thank you,” he said seriously. “For going along with that. I really didn’t know what I was doing, honestly.”

“It wasn’t obvious, don’t worry,” Hunk reassured him. 

“You weren’t terrible, I suppose,” Lance said, trying to sound halfhearted but failing completely. 

“Well, thanks anyway. Wasn’t too sure if I was going to be okay in here.” Keith turned on his heel and began walking back before Lance lunged out and grabbed his shoulder.

“Welcome to drama class. Care to sit with the best?”


	2. 2- Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith should be used to this.  
> But 'this' isn't what it's always been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thirsty for Chris McCarrell RIP

Keith should be used to it by now. Things going terribly, horribly, and unfairly wrong in his life. The day had already been terrible, with him first being kicked off the baseball team, then getting slammed into a locker, then learning that his creative writing class was full and he had to take drama like a fucking loser. Not to mention the lack of sleep, constant pounding headaches and anxiety attacks he suffered from every day. 

He should be used to it. Why? Because every day of his life, something got fucked up. His parent’s constant abuse. When he was beaten sore for being caught kissing another boy. When he finally got out of the foster system and adopted, only to feel completely out of place, because for once, someone actually cared about him. Didn’t hate him, or hurt him, or beguile him. 

So yes, Keith should’ve expected everything on his first day of senior year. The one thing he didn’t expect was to actually enjoy the loser drama class. 

Oh, and completely embarrass himself in front of the cutest boy in Garrison High. 

 

“You’re in my drama class, right?” Keith’s fingers were tight around the lunch tray in nervousness. The small kid looked up at him with round eyes. 

“Yeah,” the kid said. “It’s Keith, right?”

Keith nodded. “Can I… um…”

“You can sit here if you don’t mind me messing around with my tech homework.” Papers were moved around until Keith could sit comfortably at the small round table, beginning to eat his food silently. “Oh, and it’s Pidge, by the way. They and them, por favor.”

“Gotcha,” Keith said around a mouthful of sandwich. “You take tech? I thought drama was your elective.”

They tapped a pencil on the table. “Yeah, but I already finished all my math classes so it’s kind of a filler.”

“You’re a senior, right?” Keith asked. 

Pidge shook their head. “Sophomore.”

Keith almost spit out his sandwich. “You’re a fucking sophomore? What the hell?”

They grinned. “Yeah, I get that reaction a lot. Child prodigy whoop-de-fucking-do. I was homeschooled until high school and sped through almost three classes a year. I finished AP statistics last year and now I have a free class.” They shrugged. “I’ve always been best in tech so I’m taking it again.”

“That’s so cool,” Keith said, and for once, meant it. This kid, who couldn’t be older than 16, was already so far along in their life and he’s just been aloof all through high school. He never failed any classes, really, but he was just… average. Keith Kogane, played left field, had a decent throw and got honor roll. That’s all it ever really was. 

Pidge shrugged again. “It is, I guess. It’s kind of boring, though. To go through high school when you’ve pretty much already graduated.” 

Keith liked the way Pidge talked about their academic life, like it wasn’t some super uptight, condescending thing that they bragged about. They just went with it, which is something Keith could generously appreciate. He decided then that he liked Pidge. 

“Do you like the drama class?” Pidge asked suddenly, erasing something vigorously. “I know it wasn’t your first choice, but you were really good up there. Thinking about doing the winter musical?”

“No,” Keith said firmly. “I don’t sing or dance or anything. I was just going along with what I was thrown into. I really don’t want to fail drama of all classes.”

“Allura would never fail you, even if you did nothing. She just threatened that so you’d go up there and give it a try. You know you liked it.”

“It’s not really my thing,” Keith said. “I played baseball, and that was my little niche, and now I’ve gotta find something new, you know?”

“Drama is a good place to start,” they pointed out. “You can get a lot of places through it. It’s also fun and drama geeks are good people. Speaking of which- HUNK!” They yelled, waving over a happy big guy with an adorable smile on his face. Keith recognized him from drama, the kid who sat with Lance. Lance who, of course, invited Keith to sit with him, and Keith who, of course, froze up and shuffled away without responding. God, Keith thought, they both probably think I’m an asshole. 

“Hey Pidge!” Hunk called, walking over to the small round table. “And Keith too!” He sat down and started mixing things up on his plate, hands moving so quickly, they just looked like a blur. 

“Hi,” Keith said in a small voice.

“Keith,” Pidge said suddenly, “we need a nickname for you if you’re gonna join the squad.”

“Uh…”

“You know, I’m Pidge because my ‘real name’ is fucking stupid, and Hunk’s Hunk because he’s just Hunk. And Lance… well, there’s no way to explain him. We’ve never really met, but I know a lot about him.” 

Hunk nodded, spooning what looked like mashed potatoes and onion into his mouth. “Lance is my best friend. He’s something else, that’s for sure. I’m not positive if he has lunch this period, though.”

Pidge turned to Keith. “He’s number one drama kid here. Lead of anything and everything, plus the owner of 30 titles in competitions.”

“I know,” Keith said, blushing. “I’ve, uh… read a lot about him.”

Pidge looked at him suspiciously for a few seconds before facing Hunk and striking up a conversation about engineering. Keith panicked inside. He didn’t have a crush on Lance, he hardly knew the guy! He was only blushing because Lance is popular, and decently attractive. That was all. Lance was probably annoying and a douche. 

But he was fun during improv. And he had a cute smile. And he actually offered for Keith to sit with him. But Keith had ran away. Again. 

Keith groaned. “Lance hates me, doesn’t he?” He blurted. Hunk and Pidge turned to him with concerned looks. “I was totally rude to you guys today, just walking off like that. I’m so sorry, it’s not you guys, I just sometimes have a hard time in situations like that, and I really didn’t mean to offend you in any way and god, I’m rambling-”

“Keith,” Hunk cut him off, “breathe dude. It’s fine, we’re not offended. You don’t have to apologize.”

But a tightness in Keith’s chest made him feel like he had to, that annoying, urging voice telling him to be sorry for everything he did. He hated that voice, he really did, but try as he might, it just didn’t go away. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking down. 

“Lance doesn’t-”

“I don’t what?” Lance sat down at the table with a goofy grin. Keith’s eyes widened. He was wearing a poofy pastel pink jacket with a pale blue shirt and white capris. In other words, he looked absolutely flawless and adorable in every way. Keith quickly looked away. 

“Keith was apologizing for walking away,” Hunk explained. 

Lance waved his hand. “Done with and forgiven. No hard feelings.”

Keith let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Sorry,” he repeated. “I’m not good with new people.”

“It’s fine,” Lance insisted, pulling a notebook out of his backpack. “Really, don’t beat yourself up. Let’s just start over. Hi, I’m Lance, I’m a senior and I love attractive people.”

Pidge burst out laughing. “That’s one way to introduce yourself.”

“No, it’s accurate,” Hunk said. “The poor boy flirts with anything that moves.”

“Aha,” Lance said and held up a finger, “there’s a difference between harmless flirting and actually making a move on someone, mis amigos.”

“And what would the difference be?” Keith ventured.

Lance’s blue eyes locked on his and the other boy winked- fucking winked- and spoke in a low voice. “Why don’t you figure that out for yourself, chico lindo?”


	3. 3- I'm Shootin' High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is a boastful little fucker and hoLy shiT cute baseball player can SING

There was something about Keith that Lance just couldn’t quite figure out. He seemed like the kind of guy to be mysterious, but at the same time, his face was an open book. Lance had many years of learning how to read people under his belt, due to his social nature plus it helped with acting. And he could tell that Keith wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions. 

 

However, at the same time, Lance still couldn’t figure him out. 

  
  


“Hey hot stuff.” Lance slid into his chair a few minutes before drama began, dropping his bag onto the ground and throwing a grin Keith’s way. 

 

The reaction he got was priceless. “Hi, Lance,” Keith said, a blush dusting his cheeks. Aw, he looks cute like that, thought Lance. Then he immediately scolded himself. Keith was not cute, he was just a friend who happened to be kind of attractive… Okay, really attractive, but that wasn’t the point. “Where’s Hunk?”

 

“Absent, sadly.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“He’s sick and Allura’s announcing the school musical and audition dates today,” Lance explained, leaning back and relaxing into the chair. 

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, fingers crossed it’s got a good male lead,” said Lance, crossing his legs. He snuck a look to his right to gather Keith’s expression, but the other boy was just looking at the door casually as more students walked in. 

 

“Let me guess,” Keith said, “you’re positive you’re getting the lead.”

 

Lance shrugged. “The probability is high. Unless you’re auditioning too.” He gave Keith a sly grin. 

 

“Oh no, I’m not into stuff like that,” Keith denied, shaking his head. “I don’t sing or dance or whatever. Not my thing.”

 

“Okay, well, less competition for me,” Lance said. 

 

Keith gave him a slightly annoyed look. “Way to be modest.”

 

“I’m just saying,” said Lance casually, “I’m kinda the best here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

 

“I have,” Keith said, clenching his jaw. “I’ve been going here for a while, we all know you’re the theatre king. No need to be a dick about it.”

 

“Woah there, tough guy, I’m just stating the obvious.” Lance held his hands up, secretly enjoying riling Keith up. He seemed to be doing a decent job, because the dark haired boy looked extremely ticked. 

 

“Why not give someone else a chance, huh?” Keith said, raising an eyebrow challengingly. “I’m sure there’s tons of guys who want the part just as bad as you do.”

 

Lance shook his head. “There are. But none of them are as good as me.”

 

“Well, maybe someone will audition this year and be better than you,” Keith said. “You can’t expect everything to go your way.”

 

“Hm,” Lance said, tapping a finger on his chin, “except, I can.”

 

“This year might be different,” Keith argued. 

 

“How so?” 

 

“Maybe someone could be better than you.” Keith glared at Lance. “Maybe someone else will get the part, and show your conceited ass that you don’t always get to be first place.”

 

“There’s no first place in drama Keith,” Lance said. “Only those who get the part, and those who don’t.”

 

“You might fall into the latter category,” Keith said angrily, crossing his arms. “Put you and your hubris obsessed ass into place.”

 

Lance draped a hand over his heart dramatically. “But who could be better than I?”

 

“I don’t know!” Keith threw his hands up. “Somebody!”

 

“You?” Lance grinned in success.

 

“Maybe!” Keith shot back, then paused. “I mean, if I was going to audition, that is.”

 

“Maybe you should, then,” Lance challenged and settled back into his chair. 

 

“Maybe I will,” Keith spat, leaning back as well. Lance smiled to himself. 

 

“Okay, lovelies, today is the big day,” Allura sang as she walked into the room. As always, she looked gorgeous in a light pink sundress, her light silver hair pulled back in a braided bun. “I will be announcing the musical I chose for this year’s winter performance.” The class cheered a bit at that. “It’s going to be big,” she continued, “grand, amazing, and  _ horrifying _ .” She accentuated the last word. 

 

“Oh my god!” Lance shouted, “Are we doing  _ Rocky Horror _ ?”

 

Allura laughed. “You wish, Mr. McClain. The school would never allow that, even if I was willing to direct it.”

 

“He just wants to dress up all sexy,” some kid from the front said. 

 

“Of course,” said Lance, grinning. “And I’d be the prettiest one there.”

 

The class, save Keith, laughed at that. Allura calmed them down, smiling to herself. “Sorry to burst your bubble Lance, but we’re doing something else that’s horrifying.” She said the last word again, nodding inconspicuously towards her students. 

 

“Sweeney Todd?” A student offered. 

 

“Nope,” Allura said, walking back and forth in front of the class. “But I know someone here,” she looked pointedly at Lance, “will be elated to find out.”

 

“Oh my god!” Lance shouted again, a lightbulb going off in his mind. “Allura are you serious?”

 

She nodded. “It’s a great show, I think we’ve got the talent to pull it off, and it’ll be fun.”

 

“What is it?” Keith asked, raising his eyebrows. 

 

Lance was smiling so big, he thought his lips would crack. Then, to the embarrassment of Keith and consequently the entire class, he began singing, standing up and walking towards Allura. 

 

“Lift up your head, wash off your mascara,” he started, reaching her and spinning her around. She laughed. “Here take my Kleenex,” Lance yanked a tissue from the box on her desk and dramatically handed it to her, “Wipe that lipstick away.” Before he could finish, a melodic voice from behind him continued the song. 

 

“Show me your face, clear as the morning.”

 

Lance gaped. He knew no guy in the class could sing like that. He whipped around, searching the crowd for whoever it was. Holy shit. It was Keith, and he was walking towards them, a shy yet pleased smile on his face. 

 

“I know things were bad,” Keith sang. 

 

“But now they’re okay,” finished Lance. “How…”

 

“It’s my favorite,” Keith said humbly, shrugging. 

 

“No, everyone knows the song, I mean how can you sing like that?” Lance asked in awe. 

 

Keith blushed. “I’m not that good, I just really like that song. Couldn’t help myself.”

 

“Keith, that was amazing,” Allura praised, clasping her hands together. “Both of you boys are so talented.” She smiled at Keith. “I really hope you’ll consider auditioning for… drumroll please…  _ Little Shop of Horrors _ !

 

“Maybe,” Keith mumbled, then hurried back to his seat. Lance stood, frozen in place for a few seconds before marching back to his chair, placing his hands on his hips and staring at Keith.

 

“That was a challenge,” he said, “and I gladly accept.”

 

“Auditions start next week!” Allura called. “Wednesday for speaking parts, make sure you bring the script that I’ll be passing out. Thursday is dance, don’t worry, it’s not very complicated. And Friday for vocals. I’ll be passing out the scoring for the song I chose tomorrow. Stupid printer isn’t working right now.”

  
Lance turned to Keith. “I’ll see you at auditions…  _ y voy a conseguir la parte, chico lindo .Así que no te hagas ilusiones  _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the chapter titles are songs from musicals, so should I start putting which musical they're from??? Idk
> 
>  
> 
> \+ Spanish translation 
> 
> "And I will get the part, cute boy. So do not get your hopes up."
> 
> My spanish 4 honors ass did the best I could.


	4. 4- Being Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Production: Company  
> 'But alone is alone, not alive.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo yo yo  
> So this chapter deals with a brief mention of past child abuse, completely non-graphic and quick, but just in case, it's in one of the last paragraphs if you don't prefer to read about it. The end notes has some info of import if you check that out when you're done o_0

Keith really needed to learn Spanish. 

As a French student, he knew a few words in the language due to some similarities, and some Spanish words you just knew from going to a public school, however, other than that, he knew nothing.

But Lance, god, Lance had been bugging him for the last week in the language, knowing that he couldn’t understand. He tried remembering them, but he must’ve spelled them wrong because the translate app he used wasn’t making any sense. For example, Lance kept calling him chico lindo. 

What the hell?

So Keith attempted to look it up, and the result was ‘cute boy’? He knew that couldn’t be right, but no other spelling worked. And he knew Lance wasn’t calling him cute. And deja de ser tan atractivo, maldita sea?

What?

Stupid bilingual fuck and his gorgeous ass self.

 

Keith went home that Friday, holding the audition papers tight in his hand. Was he considering it? Maybe. Would he actually do it? Probably not. Did it have anything to with Lance? Definitely not. 

So maybe the last one was a lie. But it was only because the boastful boy was annoying the hell out of him, and Keith felt an intense need to prove himself, simply so he could prove him wrong. 

Keith approached his small, well-kept beige home with a look of confusion on his face. He knew the house would be empty until 4, so he scrambled for his keys and stepped inside, relishing the cool air and solidarity. Throwing the keys into the bin beside the door, he shrugged off his backpack and went on a hunt for food. 

Setting down a bowl of popcorn, Keith opened up the cabinet beneath the TV, flipping open the DVD book, looking for the familiar cover. When he did find it, he let out a little whoop and turned the TV and player on, slid the disk into the slot and wandered back to the couch. 

The title screen came on and Keith found himself dancing to the familiar music, humming along as he clicked play, settling back down to be swallowed by the couch. “On the twenty-third day of the month of September, in an early year of a decade not too long before our own-” he began to say along with the TV, but was interrupted by a deep voice. 

“Wow, studying really has changed since I attended Garrison.”

Keith jumped, spilling the popcorn on the couch. He looked up, meeting the man he had come to know as his dad in the eye and smiling sheepishly. “Sorry Shiro,” he said. “The school’s doing this musical and I’m… well…”

Shiro slid off his cardigan, revealing the white button up and dark grey tie underneath. “You’re what?” He prompted. 

“Well, I’m thinking of auditioning,” Keith blurted. “Not for like, a main role, maybe just in the ensemble or just working on the stage crew or something, I don’t really know-”

“Calm down, Keith.” Shiro laughed lightly. “I think it’s great you’re getting comfortable in that class.”

“You just like that class because Allura is in it,” Keith said, poking him in the arm. 

Shiro adjusted himself awkwardly and blushed lightly. “Ms. Altea has nothing to do with anything. I’m simply glad that you’re recovering from the baseball thing.”

Keith scoffed. “Yeah, that sucked, so definitely not over that quite yet. What are you doing home so early?”

Shiro walked behind the couch to get into the kitchen, pulling a mug out of the cabinet. “Meeting was called off, so I decided to head home and grade papers here so you didn’t have to be alone. Wish I had known earlier so you didn’t have to walk home when I could’ve just driven you, but whatever.”

“How’re your classes going?” Keith asked in an attempt to change the subject. Shiro caught on too quickly. 

“We’re not avoiding that conversation but since you asked, they’re going well. Their first assignment was due today so I get to start on those. I’m lucky I teach honors, these kids actually care about the quality of their work, unlike last year.”

“Well,” said Keith, “I’m glad you got to move up. You worked really hard.”

“Thanks bud,” Shiro said, then winced. “Sorry, I know you don’t like that.”

“No, it’s… fine.” Keith began picking up pieces of popcorn. 

“About the musical thing…” Shiro hummed. “I think you should do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, theatre is a great way to keep a balanced academic life. You’ll learn a lot, surprisingly, and it’s a good stress reliever sometimes.”

“All it’s doing is causing me stress,” Keith grumbled, throwing the last piece back into the bowl. 

Shiro laughed. “That’s just because you’re thinking too much into it. Did you tell Allura you play piano? If you’re not sure about being on stage, I’m sure that could be helpful in some way instead.”

“I didn’t,” Keith said. “You’re kind of the only one that knows about that.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Really? Not even your friends know?”

“I don’t have many friends, you know that.”

“Then who are those kids you sit with at lunch?”

Keith whipped around and stared at him. “Do you spy on me?”

Shiro chuckled. “No, Keith, I do not spy on you. I just have lunch the same period and like to grab a salad. They seem really nice. You should invite them over sometime. The big kid, Hunk? I think he’s in my third period.”

Keith shook his head violently. “Oh no, I don’t like having friends over. Especially since you’re one of their teachers. That’s just… weird.”

“Whatever you say.” Shiro poured hot water into his mug and dipped a tea bag in, stirring thoughtfully. “The tall hispanic kid? He’s like the lead in every play, right?”

“He’s Cuban,” Keith said quickly then internally scolded himself. “Uh, I mean, he’s annoying. He thinks he’s better than everyone, and that he’ll always get the lead and just- ugh!”

Shiro raised and eyebrow and looked at him. “So… that’s why you’re considering the musical?”

“No!” Keith retorted. “Not at all.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay,” Keith conceded, “maybe I want to prove him wrong, just a little bit. Maybe.”

“But you’re still not sure if you can do it?”

Keith nodded. “I mean, this musical is my all time favorite movie, besides ET because, hello, aliens. Anyway, it seems like it would be fun, but I just don’t think I can do it in front of actual people.”

“When are auditions?” Shiro asked and took a sip of his tea. 

“Next week,” answered Keith. “I’m thinking about it. I already know the song.”

“Which is it?”

“Well, if I audition for Seymour, it’s Grow For Me. If I just do ensemble, it’s Skid Row.”

Shiro threw a hand up. “Well, there you go. It’s two of your favorite songs. I really think you should do this Keith. I think it’ll be good for you.”

“I still don’t know,” Keith said uneasily. “Maybe I’ll talk to Karen about it.”

“That sounds good,” Shiro said. He picked up the mug and slung his work satchel over one shoulder and nodded to Keith. “I have to blast, papers to read.”

“No problemo,” Keith said, waving behind him and facing the TV again. 

“Promise you’ll work on homework when the movie is over?” Shiro called, heading up the stairs. 

“Yeah,” Keith replied, grabbing the remote and hitting play. 

While the movie played, Keith’s mind went in a million directions. It scared him that he was actually considering doing the play, actually wanting to get involved in something for once. Something that wasn’t baseball. Something with people he might be able to call his friends. He had always been afraid of change, ever since he had to move out. 

His parents were extremely… well, the only word for it really was abusive. He put up with it for 12 years, and within those years ran away thrice, broken 6 bones, hid at the neighbors too many times to count until finally, they called social services. Keith was then ripped out of the only home he had ever known, the only life he knew you could live and thrown in with a new family every month thanks to America’s foster system.

One day, as if by fate or destiny itself, a certain college student, studying English, decided to foster a 13 year old abuse victim and the two just fit perfectly. Keith had seen Shiro as an older brother at first, but eventually grew to think of him and respect him like a father. Which was a terrifying and long process. Shiro’s family loved Keith so much, they helped pay for every adoption fee when Shiro made his decision. The fact that someone actually cared for him, scared Keith shitless. 

Then his mind went to the musical. Was he going to audition? For what part? Was he good enough? What if he was cast? What would Lance do?

And what was with Lance? The cocky, annoying, gorgeous as fuck Cuban asshole who managed to worm his way into Keith’s life with either an intention to flirt or to absolutely just fuck with Keith. Whichever it was, it was working. 

Keith sighed and shoved another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Too much thinking for one day,” he mumbled to himself. The Suddenly Seymour scene, one of his favorites, started to play and he smiled. For now, he could just relax for the weekend, stay alone in his room, and pretend that anything concerning Lance or drama class just didn’t exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Tay


	5. 5- Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My son really freaks out and my sunshine helps him out. Lance is pretty much fucked but Hunk is like bro I gotchu but I"m secretly kinda setting you up because I ship y'all so hard but I'm not gonna tell you that so here, help my bud out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW okay, so y'all are so sweet with your messages and shit, I'm glad you're enjoying this. Okay, back to the gay shitstorm
> 
> Song is Change from A New Brain

Lance knew four things:

 

1) Keith Kogane-Shirogane was incredibly, annoyingly, frustratingly good at singing.

 

2) Keith Kogane-Shirogane was terribly, horribly, disgustingly good at acting.

 

3) Keith Kogane-Shirogane was grotesquely, horrifically, horrendously gorgeous. 

 

4) Lance McClain was utterly, totally, indisputably fucked.

  
  
  


“You don’t think so?” Lance asked, worried. His fingers kept tapping on the counter, a nervous tick that became a habit. 

 

“No,  _ mijo _ , I don’t.” His mother patted his cheek and smiled. “You’re very talented,  _ querido _ .” Then she smacked him with a wet towel. “Now go get washed up, we’re having _ ropa vieja con arroz _ .”

 

Lance grinned. “ _ Gracias, mamá _ .”

 

Stepping into the bathroom, he sighed and shut the door behind him. He turned the faucet on the hottest he could and splashed warm water on his face. God, he was stressing way too much about this. Next thing you know, it’ll be break out central on Lance’s face. And there was no way he was putting up with acne.

 

“Why is this bothering me?” He said to his reflection. “I’m Lance McClain, I’m the king of Garrison High and no attractive baseball player is going to get in my way.”

 

But wisps of insecurity, thoughts and feelings he thought were pushed all the way back, were floating to the surface. Lance grimaced at the mirror, reaching up to move an out of place hair behind his ear. His eyes looked sad. Now was not the time for old anxieties to make their appearance again.

 

“Are you done talking to yourself, or do I have to wait some more?” Came the shout from outside. “I have to piss,  _ culo _ , hurry the hell up!”

 

“Julian McClain, language!” Mamá shouted from the kitchen. Lane smirked at himself one more time and opened the door in a flourish. A shorter, yet practically identical, boy stood in the hallway, pouting. Lance chuckled and mussed up his hair.

 

“Hey!” Julian shouted indignantly, touching his hair softly. “Gotta look good for the ladies.”

 

Lance barked a laugh. “The only girl in this household is Eliza and she’s no lady. Sorry for messing with your hair, princess.”

 

“Says you,” Julian said, pulling down Lance’s blue crop top.

 

Lance smacked his brother’s hand away. “You’re just jealous I look so good all the time.”

 

Julian rolled his eyes and let go. “Yeah, totally.”

 

“Boys,  _ cállate _ , and come help set the table!” Mamá shouted, smacking her towel against the table. Julian and Lance flinched before the former slammed the bathroom door shut. Lance rolled his eyes but laughed a little anyway, walking to the table and his mother, trying in vain to push all of his feelings down. 

 

“Call Mateo and Aleja down, they’re in their room working on homework,” Mamá ordered, bustling into the kitchen to pull a pan off the stove. Lance nodded and sighed, then looked up the stairs. He loved his family, but they were too much sometimes. 

 

Sometimes he really just needed to be alone.

  
  
  


After dinner, Lance shut himself up in his room and dialed the first number he could think of. 

 

“Pick up, come on, pick up the goddamn phone,” he muttered, biting his nails. The phone kept ringing until finally-

 

“Hello?”

 

Lance sighed in relief. “Oh my god Hunk, I can’t breathe.”

 

Hunk breathed a laugh into the phone. “What’s wrong, Lance?”

 

“I’m freaking out. I’m not sure I’m going to get the part this year, and I really wanted it too. It’s not just because I have to be the best or anything, though that does play some kind of role, but it’s just like a dream part, you know? I just don’t know what to do because I’ve never really been in this situation and wow I can’t stop talking. This is too much. Hunk, what do I do?”

 

There was a brief pause before he responded. “I have an idea.”

 

“Anything,” Lance said helplessly. 

 

“Well first, you need to calm down,” he said. “You’re not going to get anywhere when you worry yourself in circles, Lance. Just breathe for a moment, okay?”

 

Lance inhaled deeply and sat on his bed, falling backwards into the mass of blankets. “Okay, I’m calming down.”

 

“Good,” Hunk said and Lance could hear him sitting down in his old creaky chair. His ‘thinking chair’ he called it.

 

“What do I do?” Lance groaned into the phone. “I feel like I’m being petty about this? Am I being petty about this?”

 

Hunk sighed. “No, Lance. You’re experiencing a new feeling, that’s all.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Competition doesn’t really show up for you often,” Hunk said. “You’re used to being the only option, and you’re talented dude, you really are, but sometimes you need to take it down a notch. I’m saying this as your best friend, not someone who’s out to hurt your feelings.”

 

“No,” Lance said, “I understand. And you’re right, I’m not really used to competition. And something about this feels wrong. I kinda want to be able to sit this one out, but something keeps pushing me. I don’t know if it’s myself, or some other pressure.”

 

“You push yourself really far, Lance, I’m not surprised you’re feeling this way,” said Hunk. “But there’s nothing wrong with that. This is a new and uncomfortable situation. You have a normal and valid response to it. Now we need to figure out the next step.”

 

“Which would be?”

 

“Finding out how to help you figure things out, but still get ready for auditions. I think you should still try, because it’s something you love, and maybe the challenge of becoming better will help you,” Hunk said. 

 

Lance arched his neck back and groaned again. “The worst part is, I know you’re right and that makes me so salty. What do you suggest?”

 

“I have a friend who’s in a similar situation. He just needs to come out of his shell. You’ll be reluctant, I can already tell. But you owe me one for science last year, right? Well I’m cashing in.”

 

“Okay…” said Lance, hesitant. “What’s this favor?”

 

“My… friend, well, he needs someone to goad him out and you need someone to prepare with and someone to humble you up. It’s a perfect match.”

 

“So I’ll have someone to practice with and stuff?” Lance asked. “But I also have to help him?”

 

“Yeah, and maybe make a friend in the process?” Hunk replied. “And you have to promise not to screw with this Lance. I’m serious. It’s part of the favor.”

 

“Sure, whatever, I promise. And I’m an affable person,” Lance said. “So who’s this friend? Are they cute?”

 

Hunk chuckled. “I guess he is pretty cute. Not my type of course, but guys aren’t really my type anyway. But he’s your type and he’s really nice. He’s just shy, is all.”

 

“Okay, thank you so much, Hunk, really,” Lance said sincerely, hoping his feelings were transferred through the phone. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, man.”

 

“It’s fine, I’m helping out two friends here,” Hunk said nonchalantly. “Keith is either going to kill me or thank me.”

  
Lance froze. “ _ Keith _ ?!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha my personal tumblr is @goodbye-seeyouthen but SHAMELESS SELF PROMO  
> But yeah it's a gay panic with some heathers shit in there because I love that musical so goddamn much  
> Hope you're having a nice day!


	6. 6-Getting There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WE'REEEEE SOOOAARRIIINNNN FFFLLLLYYYIIINNNN 
> 
> Title: Getting There from Fugitive Songs

“You  _ what _ ?” Keith sputtered. It was just him and Hunk at the lunch table today, due to Pidge’s tech field trip and Lance’s excessive practice in the drama room with Allura. 

 

Hunk shrugged. “He agreed. Lance is a sensitive guy, he doesn’t actually hate you or anything. He just is scared that you’re going to beat him.”

 

“I’m not  _ out  _ to beat him,” Keith retorted, dipping a french fry into his paper cup of barbeque sauce. “I just really want to do the musical, that’s all.”

 

“I know that, but he panicked last night and this morning when he saw your name on the audition sheet. Just try practicing after school today and if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out,” Hunk reasoned, sipping orange juice. “Lance is a good guy. I think you will like him once you get to know him.”

 

“I doubt that,” Keith muttered, but nodded anyway. “Whatever, I’ll do it.”

 

“Good,” said Hunk. “Now, about the calc homework…”

  
  
  


Keith slowly walked into the music room after school that day holding sheet music tightly in his fist. The room was seemingly empty and silent as he entered and sat down on the piano bench. The instrument was large and glossy, much more fancy than his small one at home. He ran his fingers over the keys, reluctant to play but tempted all the same. Setting the sheet music on the stand, Keith tested the pedals with his feet before playing three simple chords. The deep sound resonated throughout the room, bouncing off the walls. 

 

“You play?” Lance leaned against the baby grand, crossing his legs. He wore a pink crop top and short overalls today, with floral Doc Martens and a white lace choker. And damn, he made it look good. 

 

“I guess you could say that,” Keith mused, playing a few short notes. 

 

Lance laughed. “You guess? Sounds like you play to me.” 

 

Keith shrugged, running through a C scale lightning fast. “I’m not like, professional, or anything. I just picked it up along the way.”

 

“What other amazing talents did you just ‘pick up on the way’?” Lance asked in an amused tone, sliding onto the bench next to the other boy. “Because this doesn’t seem like something that just happens, you know, every day.”

 

“It’s a long story,” Keith muttered self consciously, cracking his knuckles. “Can we just get to work?”

 

“Well, we need to get to know each other first,” said Lance like it was  _ obvious _ . “You did  _ sports _ , so I know nothing about you except for that you can sing and apparently play piano as well.”

 

“My name is Keith, and that’s pretty much all you need to know.”

 

Lance gasped dramatically. “But… what’s your favorite color? What do you do on the weekends? Are you a frozen yogurt guy, or an ice cream guy? Books or movies? Favorite subject in school? You gotta give me something to work with here.”

 

“Ummm,” Keith paused, thinking. “I like red, I guess.”

 

“That’s all?” Lance pressed, picking up Keith’s hands from the piano and dropping them in his lap. “What’s your favorite song?”

 

“I don’t know,” muttered Keith, yanking his hands back. “I’m pretty boring guy.”

 

“There’s no such thing,” announced Lance, thrusting out his chest. “A guy as pretty as you has to have something special about him.”

 

Keith blushed, looking away. Lance thought he was  _ pretty _ ? Lance was the pretty one, with his blue eyes and pastel outfits and long eyelashes. Even here, on the bench with loose overalls, his small smile was endearing. He smelled like… flowers and unmistakably  _ boy _ . 

 

“Hate to burst your bubble,” said Keith, “very, very unspecial. Now, let’s get back to-”

 

“No, no, no, no.” Lance waved his hands in Keith’s face. “I’m not starting this until we know each other. I’m not willing to give up precious practice time with a  _ stranger _ . What’s your favorite movie?”

 

“I don’t know,” Keith murmured. “I like  _ Little Shop of Horrors _ , obviously but I like  _ The Princess Bride _ a lot too, I guess.”

 

“You  _ guess  _ a lot of things, don’t you?” Lance smiled. “Now you ask me a question.”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s how this works,” explained Lance with a flourish. “We go back and forth until we know each other.”

 

“I know you,” Keith said flatly. “You’re Lance McClain.”

 

“See!” Lance shouted, standing up. “I don’t even know why your last name is hyphenated!” 

 

“That’s kinda personal,” Keith said, eyeing Lance weirdly. 

 

“Well you know my last name!” Lance threw his hands up. “It’s McClain because my dad’s last name is McClain.”

 

“Wow,” Keith deadpanned. “I had no idea that’s how last names worked.”

 

Lance huffed. “Can you just tell me why?”

 

“Nosy much?” Keith accused, turning back to the piano. “It’s my biological parents’ last name followed by my adoptive last name. Happy?” He mentally prepared himself for the adopted kid pity speech. 

 

“That’s so cool!” Lance said excitedly. “Shiro adopted you? What’s he like? He’s such a cool teacher and he’s totally-”

 

“Crushing on Ms. Richards," they said together. Keith gave Lance a small smile, "I don't blame him. She's pretty beautiful." 

 

“You.. you think she’s beautiful?” Lance asked, sounding weird. 

 

Keith shrugged. “You’d have to be blind to disagree. Even my gay ass sees it.” He smiled then realized what he said and clamped his mouth shut. “I mean, anyone- well,  _ a  _ gay guy could… uh, you know-”

 

“Calm down, dude,” Lance said, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m, like, the school’s flaming queer, it’s all good. Bi pride.” He held up two fingers in a peace sign. “It’s all good in the hood, Keithy boy.”

 

“Ok, well, that’s all well and good, but don’t call me that.” Keith shoved his hand off and faced the piano. “Can we please get started?”

 

“Our game of 21 questions has not yet finished,” Lance tsked. “We have 20 more to go. It’s your turn to ask me something.”

 

“Okay, since you’re obviously not going to get off my dick about it-” Keith inwardly cringed at his choice of words- “what got you into drama?”

 

“Besides being born amazing at it?” Lance smirked, then sat down on the bench again. “I’m just kidding, I actually did chorus first because I liked to sing. But then my elementary school instructor told me I had a ‘dramatic flair’ and suggested I try theatre in middle school. I fell in love and now it’s kind of my life.” 

 

“Wow, I couldn’t tell,” Keith deadpanned. “Now can we hurry this up, we only have an hour or so.”

 

“My turn to ask you a question,” Lance said, ignoring him. “Why the mullet?”

 

Keith’s hands flew up to his hair self consciously. “What do you mean?”

 

“You know,” Lance said, gesturing wildly with his hands, “the mullet. Business in the front, party in the back. Billy Ray Cyrus. Yeehaw.”

 

“I do not have a mullet,” Keith said defensively. “That’s not a real question.”

 

“He’s in denial!” Lance crowed, smacking the piano bench. 

 

“Shut up,” Keith snapped. “Ask another question.”

 

Lance stroked his chin thoughtfully. “What’s something you’re passionate about?”

 

“That’s surprisingly serious,” snorted Keith, running his fingers across another scale. “Besides music? It used to be baseball, but now not so much.”

 

“Music is good,” Lance said. “Your move.”

 

“What’s something  _ you’re  _ passionate about?” asked Keith. “Besides drama.”

 

“Family,” Lance replied instantly. “Definitely family.”

 

Keith was surprised. He didn’t think Lance was a shallow character or anything, but that was not something he’d expected. Lance seemed like the kind of person to be passionate about fashion and other things, and Keith wouldn’t have thought that would be his first answer. 

 

“Cool,” Keith said, tapping the lid of the piano. “Your go.”

 

“What’s your favorite book?” asked Lance. 

 

Keith thought for a moment. “I like to read a lot, so I don’t really have a favorite… but if I had to choose, probably either  _ The False Prince _ or  _ The Perks of Being a Wallflower _ .”

 

“Nice, nice,” said Lance, toying with his choker. “Give me a good one. Like, truth or dare at a frat party good.”

 

“Have you even ever been to a frat party?” Keith raised an eyebrow.

 

“That’s beside the point.”

 

“Whatever. What’s your favorite food?”

 

“I would be typical and say my  _ abuela’s  _ guava  _ empanadas _ , but I honestly really like pizza. But like, weird pizza with barbecue chicken and shit like that.” Lance stood up and started doing weird little dances, tapping the toes of his shoes to make little beats. 

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Keith laughed. 

 

Lance grinned at him. “I’m dancing. I can’t hold still for very long and it’s hard for me to stay focused without something to do with my body. Continue.”

 

“It’s your turn.”

 

“Oh, right. Uh, have you ever seen High School Musical?”

 

“What kind of question is that?”

 

“An important one!”

 

“Lance, of course I’ve seen it.”

 

“Good, because we were gonna have to break this off if you hadn’t.”

 

“There is no ‘this’, Lance.”

 

“I’m hurt.”

  
  


Lance had three dogs at home, named Hamlet, Evan and Lance Jr (they just called him Junior). Lance liked to read comic books. Lance always wanted to learn how to play the piano. Lance had 6 siblings and over 20 cousins. Lance once broke his arm trying to see if you could jump off a tree with a parachute (you cannot). Lance liked to swim. Lance had ADHD. Lance’s favorite subject in school was English. 

 

The game was then cut off halfway by Keith’s impatient groans.

 

“Can we just finish this?” Keith whined. “I have homework to do.”

 

Lance huffed. “Whatever, sure. This will continue next time, though.”

 

“Great,” muttered Keith. “Now, what song are we doing for a warm-”

 

“I think,” Lance interrupted, “that we should do something from High School Musical.”

 

“What the fuck?” Keith gave him an are-you-kidding-me look. “I am  _ not- _ ”

 

“Bop to the Top or Breaking Free?” Lance asked, shuffling through a basket of papers. 

 

“ _ Neither _ , Lance-”

 

“Breaking Free it is,” Lance announced, grabbing a few papers and shoving them at Keith. “Here’s the sheet music, play it, come on.”

 

“You’re annoying,” Keith stated, staring at the papers. “I don’t want to sing to that with you.”

 

“Am I that ugly?” Lance pouted. “Be the Gabriella to my Troy, Keith.”

 

“Huh,” Keith scoffed, “ _ I’m _ Troy, obviously.”

 

“Uh, no, you’re Gabriella.”

 

“Says who?”

 

“Says your fucking mullet.”

 

“It’s not a mullet.”

 

“It totally is.”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Lance.”

 

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Keith!” 

 

“Like you fucking care.”

 

“Yeah, well- hand me the papers back!”

 

“No, we’re not doing this.”

 

“Yes, we are. I’ll even let you be Troy.”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re a terrible person.”

 

“Yeah, well you’re worse, so.”

 

“You’re rude.”

 

“Why did I agree to this?”

 


	7. 7- Jealousy Duet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance are not in love. 
> 
> ft. erotic piano playing and romantic dancing
> 
> (and my two kids being little dorks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's really, really short, but it's pure fluff pls enjoy
> 
> Chapter song: Jealousy Duet from The Threepenny Opera

The practices became a weekly thing, then slowly turned into a daily thing. Sometimes they didn’t even sing or dance, just lounged around the music room, doing homework or screwing around. The room became a bubble, separate from all other life. It was always just them. Them and words and music and so many stories and laughs. 

 

It’d been a long time since Lance laughed like he did with Keith. 

 

“Okay, okay, but imagine this: dog beds, but for humans.” Lance was hanging upside down from the piano bench, tossing a drum stick in the air. A half empty Kool-Aid pouch was placed next to him. 

 

Keith snorted from where he was sitting on the ground. “So, beds?”

 

“No, no, no. Like giant fluffy mattresses just like, on the ground everywhere. And you can just curl up on one whenever you wanted to.” Lance tilted his head back more to meet Keith’s eyes. “Come on, that would be great.”

 

“I think you’ve had enough Kool-Aid,” Keith said, raising an eyebrow. Lance just stuck his tongue out at him, red from the artificial dyes. Keith giggled, leaning forward. 

 

“Says you,” Lance scoffed, nodding towards the pile of empty pouches resting near Keith’s bare knee. “We could make a castle made out of Kool-Aid pouches and put human dog beds everywhere and just live in it.”

 

Keith cracked up, falling backwards and smacking his hands onto his face. “Lance, what the fuck?”

 

“I’ll be the king of Pouchland and you’ll be my brave knight.” Lance held the drumstick out like a sword and whipped it through the air. “We’ll take over Capri-SunLand and turn all the drinks to Kool-Aid!”

 

“Okay, there’s way more than one thing wrong with that statement but it’s obvious  _ I’ll  _ be the king,” Keith scoffed, crossing his arms. “You’ll be a peasant.”

 

Lance gasped dramatically and fell off the bench, landing awkwardly on his shoulder. Flipping his butt over his head, he landed on his hands and knees and outright  _ cackled _ . Turning to face Keith, he bopped his nose and scrunched his face up. “Call me a peasant again,  _ peasant _ .”

 

“Wow,” said Keith, rolling his eyes, “your insults are so original.”

 

Lance paused, looking at Keith’s pretty grey eyes. Wait, pretty? Lance tilted his head to the side. Yep, those were pretty. He had an appreciation for beautiful things, and there was no denying that Keith fell into that category. “You know what?” Lance said, rolling onto his knees, tips of them touching Keith’s. He leaned in and whispered, “We can both be kings.”

 

Keith looked like he was holding his breath. They looked at each other for almost a minute before Keith turned away, coughing. “Let’s sing something.”

 

Lance shook himself out of whatever stupor he was in. “Uh, yeah, sounds good.”

 

Keith stood up and kicked a few of the drink pouches to the side, clearing his throat as he sat down at the piano. Lance noticed he never really played, only played a few notes every once in awhile. He didn’t know if Keith was shy, or just didn’t want to play in front of anyone, but he still wanted to hear it. 

 

“Will you play for me today?” Lance asked suddenly. He had never fully asked outright and the difference in Keith’s posture was drastic. The dark haired boy was now sitting up straight and his face looked strange. “Ah, never mind.”

 

“No,” Keith said quietly. “I’ll play. What do you want to sing?”

 

“Uh,” Lance said, holding up a finger and shuffling through his sheet music. Finding the one he was looking for, he let out a little noise in success and handed them to Keith. “You know this one?”

 

Keith bit his lip. “Yeah, I know how it goes… I just haven’t heard a piano version, so it may take a minute.”

 

“You wanna be Curly?” Lance asked, sitting on the bench with him. “I’m a better soprano so I’ll do Laurey.”

 

Keith nodded. “Yeah, just give me a second to work this out.” 

 

Lance didn’t know why he picked that specific song. Maybe it was some part of his brain yelling at him to wake the fuck up and smell the roses; the roses being Keith. Figuratively, of course. Maybe some part of his subconscious knew something he didn’t. Or maybe he just liked the song. Whatever; he was thinking too much into it. 

 

Keith poked him. “Lance?”

 

“Yeah?” he said, shaking himself out a little. “Sorry, you good to go?”

 

Keith nodded and positioned his long fingers across the keys, then began playing the intro. It sounded lovely, and his fingers worked across the instrument like they were meant to be there. Lance let himself loose in the music for a few seconds before clearing his throat and preparing to sing. 

 

“ _ Why do they think up stories that link my name with yours _ ?” He sang, swaying a bit. 

 

“ _ Why do neighbors gossip all day behind their doors _ ?” Keith returned, voice smooth and low as ever. 

 

“ _ I know a way to prove what they say is quite untrue, here is the gist a practical list of ‘don’ts’ for you _ ,” Lance continued. He stood up, walking around the other end of the piano and laying out across it. “ _ Don’t throw bouquets at me, don’t please my folks too much, don’t laugh at my jokes too much _ ,” Lance sang, throwing in a tiny chuckle. “ _ People will say we’re in love _ !”

 

He stood up and walked loosely around the room, keeping his eyes on the boy playing the piano. “ _ Don’t sigh and gaze at me, your sighs are so like mine, your eyes mustn’t glow like mine… people will say we’re in love _ !” He put a hand on the lid of the piano and jumped up, crossing his legs over the edge. “ _ Don’t start collecting things, give me my rose and my glove _ .” Lance held out an arm to Keith for the ending, making the boy blush. “ _ Sweetheart, they’re suspecting things, people will say we’re in love _ ,” Lance finished, his arm still out. 

 

Keith opened his mouth and sucked in a tiny breath before beginning, “ _ Some people claim that you are to blame as much as I… _ ” he held out for a second, holding the note perfectly, “ _ Why do you take the trouble to bake my favorite pie? Grantin’ your wish, I carved our initials on that tree… just keep a slice of all that advice you give for free _ .” 

 

Keith finally raised his eyes to meet Lance’s, fingers keeping the melody. “ _ Don’t praise my charm too much, don’t look so vain with me, don’t stand in the rain with me… people will say we’re in love _ !” He grinned. “ _ Don’t take my arm too much, don’t keep your hand in mine, your hand feels so grand in mine… _ ” Keith glanced down at the piano once more before belting, “ _ People will say we’re in love _ !”

 

Lance smiled so widely his cheeks began to hurt. Keith looked at him shyly. “ _ Don’t dance all night with me… _ ” Lance ran over and grabbed his hand, stopping the music but urging Keith to continue. “ _ Till the stars fade from above _ .” Lance twirled him around, laughing lightly. Keith spun Lance into his arms. “ _ They’ll see it’s alright with meeeeee… people will say we’re in love _ !” They both stood, frozen, faces inches apart. 

 

“ _ People _ ,” Lance whispered, finally unwinding himself from Keith’s arm, but still holding onto his hand. He tugged Keith towards him and tilted his head down, looking at the other boy through his eyelashes. “ _ Will say… _ ” He pulled Keith into him. “ _ We’re in _ …” Lance held Keith’s weight and dipped him slowly. “ _ Love _ .” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is: People Will Say We're in Love from Oklahoma


	8. 8- With So Little to Be Sure Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really short sorrryyyy but next chapter is when shit happens

The audition dates were quickly approaching and Keith wasn’t sure if he was ready. The practices with Lance had been paying off, but the more time he spent with the boy, the more he felt guilty about his goal to win. Uh, not win… get the part.

 

Spending time with Lance felt refreshing, calming, and left him with something to look forward too. Each practice was a little different, and either ended with them in a strange almost-romantic pose or splayed out across the floor, laughing six-packs into their abs. Keith never thought he’d enjoy something like this, but as soon as that one week passed, he didn’t want to let it go. Nine days of what was meant to be kind of a one time thing left him a little sideways about the whole ‘need to beat Lance’ ideal. 

 

The atmosphere changed at their last practice. Keith was waiting in the music room, laying out across the piano bench, chewing on the eraser of his pencil. All was quiet save for the muted ticking of the generic school clock. Murmurings of of the last few students exiting the building drifted through the open door as Keith patiently waited. 

 

“Sorry, I had to, uh… never mind.” Lance rushed into the room, looking rumpled and stressed. He was wearing pale jeans and a blue jacket thrown over a plain white tee shirt. He looked less… vibrant and put together than he usually did. “How was your day?”

 

Keith sat up, watching Lance as he threw his backpack to the side. Keith slid over to make space for him on the bench. “It was fine,” Keith answered carefully. “Are you… okay?”

 

Lance sat down. There were bags under his blue eyes, contrasting the white opalescent dust coating his eyelids. Keith wanted to run his fingers over them. “I’m fine,” Lance replied, running a hand through his hair, leaving the usually neat curls in a mess on his head. Keith laughed softly and leaned forward, biting his lip in concentration as he meticulously rearranged the strands back into their place. Lance went crossed eyed for a moment, before meeting Keith’s eyes, eyelashes fluttering. Keith sucked in a breath, pulling his hand away but still leaning forward. 

 

He didn’t know what happened, but Keith felt the sudden urge to just lean… a little further…

 

“Uh, what song do you want to sing today?” Lance blurted, looking away. Was he… blushing?

 

“Oh,” Keith whispered, “that. Right. Music, auditions and shit.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance laughed. It sounded forced. “So, I was thinking we should try the actual audition songs for the last day.”

 

“Unless there’s callbacks,” Keith reminded him, turning to face the piano. 

 

“Yes,” Lance agreed, “but I still think we should do it.”

 

“Okay,” Keith relented, nodding. He began shuffling through the sheet music, trying to get the moment they just had out of his head. “Grow For Me?”

 

“Yep,” Lance said, spinning around so his back was to the piano. He had a faraway look in his eyes and what subconsciously picking at the piano bench. “Do you…” He pressed his lips together. “Do you think that I’ll even have a chance?”

 

Keith looked at him, but Lance wouldn’t meet his eyes. Was he really unsure about this? Keith didn’t know the answer either, but it wasn’t what he expecting the other boy to say. “What do you mean?”

 

“Like…” Lance sighed and pulled a knee up to his chest. “I’m not trying to sound vain or anything, but I’ve always gotten the part, you know? And now… there’s someone who is as good as me, better even, and I guess I’m scared. It’s weird because I want the part, but I want you to have the part too.”

 

“Lance…” Keith placed a hand on his arm, “that’s completely understandable.”

 

Lance finally looked at Keith through his eyelashes. “Are you being serious or just fucking with me?”

 

Keith was taken aback. “Why would I mess with you? I know how much you care about this. I wouldn’t be that much of an asshole.”

 

Lance buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I… I have really bad anxiety.” He exhaled sharply through his mouth. “It’s not usually something I just tell people, you know? I put on this… this front, and if it breaks…”

 

“Hey,” Keith said softly, placing a hand on Lance’s back. “I’ve got my share of mental stuff, just ask my therapist. Karen’s a peach.”

 

Lance sniffled and held the back of a hand against his nose. “I would ask my parents to see someone, but my mom probably can’t afford it and my dad already hates me with his toxic masculinity bullshit.” He rubbed his eyes. “God, here I go, just spilling out my sob story. Way to go, Lance.”

 

“Don’t say that.” Keith spun around so they were both facing outward. “I’ll always listen. I might not be able to respond since I have the social skills of a raw carrot, but I will always be here to just soak in your frustrations. Don’t forget that.”

 

Lance looked at him sideways. “You’re a good friend, you know that, right? Like, you’re not the friendliest person ever, but you’re a good guy Keith.”

 

This is it, Keith thought, this is the end of me. Lance looked angelic in the cool public school lighting and his blue jacket. His lips were perfectly… kissable, and every amount of self control Keith had was being used to not surge forward and test that observation. 

 

“We should work on the song,” Keith said suddenly, tearing his gaze away from Lance and spinning to face the piano again. “I have this one memorized so we won’t need the scoring.”

 

-

 

Pidge groaned and sat back on their hands, throwing Hunk an exasperated look. “They’re idiots. They’re fucking idiots!”

 

Rover laughed, her electric blue hair swinging as she shook her head. “This is so amusing to watch.” 

 

Pidge smiled at their girlfriend. “I know right? But so exhausting because they’re so blind to it.”

 

Hunk peeked through the window and a grin broke out across his face. “They’re singing.”

 

Pidge scrambled to their feet and shoved Hunk to the side, taking a look as well. “Keith’s trying so hard not to stare at Lance, but he’s not doing a very good job.”

 

Rover rolled her wheelchair over to the door and patted Pidge’s back. “What are we going to do about them?” she asked. 

 

Pidge growled in annoyance. “I swear I’m ready to just lock them in there until they-” their eyes widened. “- holy shit, we’re gonna lock them in there.”

 

“You sure that’s a good idea, Pidge?” Hunk said, scratching his neck. “Won’t they freak out?”

 

Pidge waved a hand. “We won’t leave them. Just until they do something.”

 

“Okay,” Hunk agreed reluctantly. “Only for like an hour though.”

 

Pidge nodded. “Of course, I’m not  _ that  _ evil.”

 

“You sure about that?” Rover grinned. 

 

“Fight me, babe,” Pidge snorted. “They’re still singing. It’s now or never.” They flicked the lock. “Here we go.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. 9- If I Could Tell Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DeAr EvAn HaNsEn

“Thanks,” Keith said, dipping his head shyly. “That was fun.” Lance grinned back, shoving papers around the basket. 

 

“You make a great Seymour, I must say,” Lance said as he spun around on the piano bench. Keith still sat on the edge, messing around with his thumbs. He looked up when Lance spoke.

 

“Are… are you sure?” he asked, surprisingly quieter. “I’m new to this, I mean…”

 

“I am a professional at this point,” Lance said dramatically, “and you’re fine. Good, even, admittedly.”

 

“I just…” Keith tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I don’t want to take this away from you. It started like some competition but now… I don’t know, I feel like it’s your right to get this role.”

 

_ Now that I know you better.  _

 

“It’s not anyone’s right but the whoever is best,” Lance declared, running his finger down a shining white piano key. “If that happens to be you… I’ll deal with it, I guess.” 

 

Keith playfully shoved Lance’s shoulder with his own. “Now I feel like I’m being guilt-tripped. I’m serious, Lance.”

 

The brunet nodded vigorously. “Oh, I know. And I’m not going down without a fight. But it’s up to talent in the end, and who am I to say that you don’t have more than me?”

 

Keith looked at him with a strange look on his face. This boy, this loud, flamboyant, conceited boy… he’d changed so much since their first practice, if that was even possible. This Lance who sat in front of him, in plain clothes with all of his problems laid bare on his face; this was a piece of Lance that was a secret. 

 

Lance who was afraid sometimes, Lance who cared, Lance who didn’t make a scene about something because he loved it. This was the Lance Keith liked. 

 

“We’ll see,” was all Keith said before standing up and sliding his phone out of his pocket. “Shit,” he cursed, stomping his foot a little. “I forgot that my phone died seventh period.”

 

“I left mine at home,” Lance chuckled, swinging his legs over the piano bench. “Woke up a little late if you couldn’t tell.” Keith assumed he was referring to his less put together outfit and nodded. 

 

“You still look fine,” he said quickly, grabbing his backpack. “Bye, Lance.” When he reached for the handle, it didn’t move. “Uh....”

 

“What’s wrong?” Lance asked, grabbing the handle too. When it didn’t budge for him either, he gave Keith a panicked look. “It’s not… it’s not locked, right? They don’t lock from the outside?”

 

“The music room does,” Keith pointed out. “And wow, look at that, we’re in the music room.”

 

“In my rush I must have, I don’t know, bumped it or something?” Lance said, breathing a bit more heavily. 

 

Keith touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

 

Lance jerked his arm away. “I don’t like… I don’t prefer to be locked in places. It’s- it’s not, uh…”

 

“Lance, calm down.” Keith placed  calming hand on his shoulder and refused to budge. “Just breathe. It’s probably just jammed or something.”

 

“No, it’s not and I can’t and who will and I just- please, I don’t-” Lance blinked tears out of his eyes, flapping his left hand wildly. 

 

Keith didn’t know what to do. Lance looked like he was about to collapse, the door still wasn’t opening and he didn’t know how to deal with people. One look at Lance and he made a rash decision. 

 

“Please calm down,” he pleaded, holding onto Lance. “I know when I get panic attacks, I like it when someone holds me.”

 

Lance nodded but just continued babbling and reaching for Keith. Keith took a deep breath and held Lance, but the other boy was still shaking and letting out these little sobs that made Keith want to cry. 

 

“Lance,” he whispered. “Lance.” The boy wasn’t stopping. Keith began to panic too, searching the room for something, anything, with his eyes. “Shit, shit, shit.”

 

Finally, he looked back to Lance and said, “Fuck it,” and pressed a concerned and soft kiss on his lips. Please calm down, he thought. Oh god, I’m fucked.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
